In a rare, deeply reflective conversation with Khalid Mohamed, actor Joy Sengupta traces his journey across theatre, cinema and television, speaking about artistic integrity, mentors, influences and why he chose principles over compromise. 

A do-it-all actor in theatre, film, web series …and more… but without making crass compromises, over to Joy Sengupta in conversation about his acting odyssey with Khalid Mohamed.

I’ve always had an inexplicable thing about the multi-media actor, as staggeringly impressive on the stage as he is in selective filmography which kickstarted with Govind Nihalani’s Hazaar Chaurasi ki Maa (1998).

Once, maybe a decade ago, he had avoided an interview with me as if I was the bubonic plague. Or that’s what I thought.

Seeing his fun, informative posts lately on social media about travelling for film and web series shoots, airflight delays, and revelling in the dhabas and restaurants discovered during his travels across the world, I messaged him for a talking-to. That did transpire… here then is the story of a decidedly principled, shockingly underestimated actor at the age of 50-plus, Joy Sengupta:

On The Beginnings

Tell you frankly, I didn't attempt anything, whatever happened was organic. As a kid I was hyper shy and diffident, comfortable losing myself in the world of story books... travelling to distant lands, through fiction, becoming distinct characters in my head. That was my alternate reality very early on, in primary school.

Theatre discovered me, allowing me the luxury to play on stage, the stories and characters which would never leave me. Somehow instinctively I would respond to the 'magic’ from my pre-teens and was praised for my abilities.

On the Influence of Parents

Added to that was the encouragement of my parents, quite coincidentally named Anjan (superintendent of directorate of revenue) and Anjana Sengupta -- whose worlds revolved around literature, music, theatre, cinema, and arguments on social, political and cultural issues. I was in the middle of it all. Soon I was creating my own plays, directing them in school, getting pats on the back and wows from my teachers.

On Coming of Age

It was getting increasingly evident that perhaps my calling, my true identity was the stage where I could be anyone. Exposure to cinema came into my life quite early -- a screening of Mrinal Sen's Calcutta ’71, on a makeshift screen behind our house in Dum Dum, Kolkata, when I was merely five. This opened a parallel of what I was witnessing on the streets with what unfolded on screen: repression, chaos and helplessness. Then came Hollywood, thanks to my father. Stewart Granger's balletic sword fight in Scaramouche, impacted me as a six-year-old.

Then we moved to Delhi and Dev Anand in Amir Garib, stylishly won me over (I tried to be a dandy too). Then Amitabh Bachchan exploded in all our lives with Zanjeer and Deewaar, we’d catch the first day show even on black tickets. When we moved to Kathmandu, during my middle school, where entertainment was scarce, watching each of Bachchan’s films multiple times was the norm.

Then funnily enough, Shyam Benegal ruined the suspension of disbelief which Bachchan’s films demanded. Watching Ankur with my father on Doordarshan, I was intrigued by the complete contrast in film language, especially the climax.

My father explained that while Bachchan would jump from the third floor of a building to bash up 20 men for vengeance, here was a little kid at the film’s end who threw a stone at the zamindar’s house, indicating the possibility of a revolution. Too much for a nine-year-old? Well it set me thinking.

Three year later, we would watch and re-watch Namak Halaal, and Junoon once on VCR. And strangely, it was that line, "Javed bhai hum Dilli haar gaye” that echoed in my heart, way more than any anthemic Bachchan song, which meant I was getting sucked into the parallel movement of cinema, mostly funded by the National Film Development Corporation, then.

On Theatre, Hands-on

Later, in college theatre became serious -- it was more than just fun and games, it was a vehicle to discover myself by observing and analysing the conditions around to present them accurately on stage. This was slowly drilled in through a rigorous process and workshops, in the Dramatic Society of Delhi’s Deshbandhu College (South Campus) under the guidance of professional theatre artistes from the National School of Drama.

On Cinema and Theatre Education

The Delhi International Film Festival introduced me to Jean-Luc Godard and Krzysztof Zanussi. Subsidised screenings at Shakuntalam theatre and on the Trade Fairs grounds introduced me to the crafts of Meryl Streep and Robert De Niro, along with the American independent cinema of Paul Mazursky and Paul Schrader as well as the Indian New Wave of Adoor Gopalakrishnan, John Abraham and Saeed Mirza.

Now my parents were driving me to balance an educated profession with my passion. But the quotable quote of my father, “Happiest is he whose hobby is his profession" became my yardstick. I was convinced that I wanted my adult life to be a world of imagination, surrounded by creativity and not stifling hierarchies or a dull repetitive office curriculum. I didn’t choose in clear cut terms of, “I want to be a film star and not a stage artiste or vice versa.” I was just flowing with my learning.

Safdar Hashmi, Habib Tanvir, M. K. Raina and then Ebrahim Alkazi came into my life. My idealism found direction, my politics were shaped, my sense of aesthetics bloomed, my worldview was formed.

Now there was no narrow ambition or corrupted persuasions. I sincerely wanted to balance my day-to-day routines with an artistic life of politics and art overlapping. I became a teacher of Theatre in Education at Delhi schools, started writing for a political magazine, practised puppetry and acting, and was in the centre of cultural movements, including the Film Society movement.

A diploma in theatre studies led to the T.V. medium where I experimented with my understanding of craft for the camera, working with sensible professionals including Sriram Raghavan and Anurag Basu. Theatre took a more professional salaried route through Barry John, Lillete Dubey (a professional relationship since ’95), Rahul Da Cunha and Feroz Khan, among others.

On No Compromises, Please!

And then cinema happened majorly through the man who had stolen my peace with Aakrosh, Ardh Satya, Aaghat and Tamas. I didn’t plan any of this. I had prepared a base, promised myself that I wouldn’t compromise with my cultural and political principles beyond a point and everything just manifested itself, theatre taking me to West End and off Broadway.

All I knew is that I wanted to balance theatre and serious cinema with T.V., corporate films, ad commercials, mainstream cinema, whatever, to keep the kitchen fires burning.

The anomaly was that the parallel cinema movement was long dead. Typecasting had become the rule – action, romance, comedy, villainy -- everyone had to choose their slot and then spend all their precious time to get close to some camp, realpolitik and network, project a perception, for a career in mainstream cinema.

I fitted none. At most, I was labelled the ‘90s boy-next-door on the lines of Amol Palekar. But there was no one around like Hrishikesh Mukherjee, Basu Chatterjee, Gulzar and Bhimsain. It was the time of Khiladi, Saajan and Shola Aur Shabnam.

I just carried on with what I was already competent, never attending networking parties, knocking on producers’ doors or selling sponsored stories about myself to The Bombay Times.

When T.V. turned regressive I gave it up despite a hefty monthly income.

Fortunately Bengali cinema happened, sensible, literature-inspired cinema, which had long vanished, but I happened to get offers of the kind which I could relate with. I did just five such films in 10 years, they were that rare but each one was driven by an auteur. Each of those films was feted around the world. I was in a happy space.

Around that time BBC Radio 4 decided to endorse India-centric programmes. I did adaptations of Vikram Seth’s Suitable Boy, Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure with a Rajasthani background and Shudraka’s Mrichhakattika, all in English, by directors from London’s Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts (RADA).

Hindi cinema also happened but on a marginal basis. To dedicate myself to playing Gandhi on stage, I did give up a big film when they decided to shoot on the very day I had a show in London. Yet these were simple choices driven by commitments and not greed or opportunism, which would have meant a gross betrayal of my core beliefs.

On the Iconic Ebrahim Alkazi

When I was growing into theatre, gaining confidence in college, almost all our theatre folklore centred around the legend of Ebrahim Alkazi -- his teachings, disciplinarian process, unbending artistic approach and conflicts with the mercurial talents under his tutelage.

I had this impossible dream to learn the ropes of the art from him but he had left India and teaching around 1977. I aspired to enrol in RADA but couldn’t afford the tuition fees from my meagre remuneration as a drama teacher. The next move was to somehow learn Russian and apply at the Moscow Plastic Theatre which gave heavy subsidies to Indian students.

Fortuitously just then, Alkazi came back to India and resumed teaching at his own institute with a personalised method. I didn't think twice before applying and got through.

To my surprise, he returned the fees entirely after the first year. His were the generous outpourings of a theatre saint.

I was here to learn techniques of acting, what I got was a holistic approach to understanding the art of theatre and acting in connection with all other arts and specifically with modernism in art.

For example to teach realism in acting and theatre, he took us through modernism in literature, painting and the given societal reality which influenced playwrights Anton Chekhov’s Three Sisters or Mahesh Elkunchwar’s Vada Chirebandi.

I was not just acting but making sense of the historical conditions which gave rise to certain forms and their content.

Yah, I felt more like a thinking artiste than a mere performer.

Of course in Bombay then, mainstream cinema’s reception to the idea of a thinking or trained actor with artistic parameters was hardly encouraging.

Institutions were scoffed at and the processes – like casting, script breakdowns and characterisations -- were just bypassed for a newcomer without a slot.

On the Govind Nihalani Opportunity

With Govind Nihalani, it was quite a coincidental opportunity.

On seeing Aakrosh, I had lost my sleep, feeling helpless about oppression and exploitation but also drawing strength from the city lawyer's final idealistic stand -- to personally carry on the fight for justice beyond the cold idea of a client-lawyer relationship as depicted in the final conversation between Naseeruddin Shah and Amrish Puri.

This so resonated with my socio-political idealism that I became an instant fan of Nihalani.

Then I was summoned to Bombay for the casting of the Doordarshan afternoon soap Shanti. Once here, I heard Nihalani was shooting in Mehboob Studio.

When he came to know I had done Mahesh Elkunchwar's Virasat (Vada Chirebandi) with Alkazi, he immediately got interested, saying he was planning to film it as part of his series of plays (Strindberg's Father and Lorca's The House of Bernarda Alba were already done).

Five years later, he came to see the opening show of my play, If Wishes Were Horses -- at the NCPA.

Afterwards I was in Chandigarh, taking a workshop, when I received a phone call through the Punjab University Drama Department that Nihalani was looking for me back in Mumbai. A gruelling audition later I was in.

Much after the shoot, he said to me he had cast me for how my eyes communicated on screen… he said he frames eyes in the centre and allows it to speak the language of cinema.

A vital lesson for me -- not dialogue, not bodily flourishes as in theatre, but eyes speak in cinema.

The other lesson was hard-learned.

I would painstakingly prepare for the next day’s shoot at home, but on reaching the studio things would change, my motivations would be altered, intensity would be controlled and even the dynamics between characters would become different in front of the camera. I would come home and suffer, believing all was ruined as far as my characterisation was concerned.

But at the first screening everything made sense. I learnt that the director sees the entire film, while I was seeing just my character. The camera conveys the essence, the actor just embodies it.

Cinema is the director’s medium, the camera is the pen or the brush -- while theatre is the actor’s medium. The actor was the play in entirety -- no costume, no sets, no lights -- just his or her purest live presence on stage for the audience.

So there have been two teachers of two mediums and one eager student.

On the Twist of the Plot from Stage to TV Series Writers

I do believe when T.V. was absent from our lives, writing had one outlet—literature. Playwrighting and dramaturgy flourished without the thought of financial returns. Playwrights had day jobs, many were in academics and some were journalists articulating their personal impulses. That was the case with Badal Sircar, Vijay Tendulkar and Girish Karnad especially.

But the advent of T.V. serials meant a lucrative invite for episode churning. Those who had a flair for writing as a hobby simplified and compromised their talent in keeping with the dumbed-down expectations of the viewers. That fetched them a great deal of money. Writing became their day and night job. Like it or not, a whole generation surrendered their personal instincts for market appeasement.

On the Bare Essentials

A valuable lesson I had learnt while interacting with fresh graduates from RADA was that their only prayer is to sustain themselves as actors around the year. Many of them had to do other day jobs, especially in the off-season for a repertory, like working at the docks.

I had taken a tiny shot at this myself in New York once. Thanks to a favourable review in The New York Times, an agent approached me to stay back for a bit, hoping to find me an international placement.

This was in the early 2000s, and I was stunned by the level of desperation, competition and lack of employment for ethnic actors. For a one-scene part of an ethnic newspaper vendor, thousands of actors -- Arabs, Indians and Latinos -- would line up with all their training and competitive edge, taking time off from waiting tables or selling furniture.

On Different Strokes in 28 Years

I was promptly back in India and to date I’m working in different mediums -- cinema, web series, rarely TV, audiobooks, dubbing and teaching. Occasionally there would be ad commercials besides cultural activism, in Hindi, Bengali and English consistently for 28 years despite many filters coming in – the age factor, recession in OTT business, films becoming one-dimensional -- big, loud, agenda-driven and focused on numbers, and increasing competition from Instagram influencers and the whims of casting agents.

Theatre demands a level of discipline and commitment bordering on many sacrifices, giving rise to a certain sense of derision towards other mediums where unqualified actors are overtly pampered to deliver what is not always challenging.

I do think that at its core theatre functions at a democratic level, where there is an active collaboration between the writers, directors, actors, musicians, choreographers, scenic designers, art directors, light and sound designers, set builders, backstage managers and box office managers, their duties often overlapping. Still, I would not discount the condescension which might creep in from a false sense of superiority.

On Creative Satisfaction

Only a handful of Hindi films have given me reasonable satisfaction, many not finding adequate platforms for wider visibility. Some of it is governed by the market.

My fault lies in my limitation.... of not harbouring enough ambition for Bollywood glory, of not having a jot of a desire to follow the adage—“Jo dikhta hai, wohi bikta hai.” Also I am a realist and know my shortcomings.

I don’t have a screen presence which invites shock and awe from the audience. It surely gets appreciation for naturalism and the ease of merging with the cinematic landscape, but sadly that is not enough to get the backing of investors.

Commercial films being a mass medium and a profit-mongering business hinge on the mass audience’s reaction and investments riding on actors. I never had that advantage. So I focus on my space -- the little teamwork films, the personal collaborative plays, the firm commitments and a personal rapport.

On Not Playing the Game

I was brought up on the formula cinema of the 1970s to the 90s. I looked up to how Sanjeev Kumar or Pran integrated their character acting into formula films.

In my case that did not happen. Many of my colleagues worked very hard to fuse their natural personalities into formula shapes. Like Ashish Vidyarthi (who also made his debut in Nihalani's cinema) went for villainy. Rajpal Yadav opted for comedy. The late Nirmal Panday went for heroism.

Manoj Bajpayee initially went for negative shades, transitioned to the lead, then had a few setbacks and re-emerged as a character actor. Most of them have been successful in varying degrees.

I did not play the game, I did not covet camps.

Of the scores of films featuring a successful actor, only a handful survive the test of time and become a part of cultural history. In my case I can count at least a few endeavours which even 50 years down the line can be studied for their subjects, form or topicality, maybe three in Hindi and two in English.

It could have been 20. But the fact is that it is not.

The form determines my approach... a period piece by Tagore or Saratchandra do require a certain specificity, rhythm and therefore a certain studied craft to bring out the manner and decorum of their classics.

A film on the pioneering social reformist Jyotirao Phule would challenge me to understand the historical need of the psychological disposition of a Brahmanical intellectual.

On the other hand, a light-hearted caper allows me to submit to the mood and pace of the situations.

But one thing is for sure, I never take a single moment for granted and work singularly on plausibility by approaching a character as a human and not merely a representative.

On the Need to Just Be

Also having worked a bit with European directors, the need to just BE, allowing the camera to probe the being, is evidently not applicable in most Indian mainstream films reliant on the mythological borrowing of heightened rasas. In theatre I shift from inside to the outside, the grammar being the projection of innermost intuitions.

If you ask me, I am driven cumulatively—if the script doesn’t facilitate this, the director fills in with his visualisation, while I am almost always carried by my imagination, the research being my life and learning itself. It’s all contained within my mind and body.

On Avoiding Networking

Announcing myself doesn't come naturally to me. Selling myself doesn't sit with me. Going to places which interfere with my senses, becoming someone who is not my true self, seems needless to me... because the only criteria for me is my overall mental well-being and a certain degree of satisfaction with my day.

Reading books or queuing up for an Ingmar Bergman or a Kim Ki-Duk film gives me a high. A thumri or classical music concert elevates my soul. Academic seminars on post-modernism empower me.

Escaping to nature gives me a perspective, when a doodh jalebi at a Muzaffarpur ghat satiates my senses.... why do I need to waste my time and resources in places which chip at my soul?

I party, I host addas but they are not driven by ulterior career motives.

On the Highs

Hazaar Chaurasi Ki Ma (1998) being my first, bringing together Mahashweta Devi (one of my idols), Govind Nihalani (my inspiration) and Jaya Bachchan (Satyajit Ray's and Hrishida's actor) would naturally be my most cherished venture.

The play Sammy in which I essayed the life and ideas of Mohandas to Mahatma Gandhi, from the ages of 26 to 76, will always remain my finest accomplishment, not just in essaying the role but in soaking in the ultimate philosophy of humanism.

Of the web series, I am extremely proud to be associated with Black Warrant, its research, detailing, nuances and sensitivity satisfied me even as an audience.

On the Professional and the Private

I strictly believe in the separation of professional and the personal.

My family avoids the camera lens. There is even a certain aversion from Tara (my wife) towards the visible one-upmanship in our entertainment field for temporary eyeballs.

She doesn't enjoy what she terms as 'filmy' events. Who am I to grudge her opinion?

Interesting film screenings she is open to, but not events.

On the Abiding Influences

Balraj Sahni and Soumitra Chatterjee have been huge influences on me because of their overall personalities, performances, choices, intellect and dignity. Naseeruddin Shah and the late Om Puri completely overwhelmed me, altering my perceptions of acting.

In terms of the lives led in the arts -- Balraj Sahni and Soumitra Chatterjee (by the way Soumitra Kaku was a huge fan of Balraj Sahni) – are my touchstones.

Habib Tanveer's Charandas Chor was truly what people's theatre should be - talking about indigenous people, through indigenous actors in an indigenous form, creating universal emotions.

Internationally I have watched Cate Blanchett, Kevin Spacey and Jessica Lange on stage.... but a production by London’s National Theatre titled Lehman Brothers was an astonishing production of arts and craft holding a giant microscope on 20th century capitalism.

A performance was devised which is only possible on stage – three actors playing three brothers, without exiting or changing. They act, contemplate and emote on a stunning revolving stage with a glass facade while taking the audience through 120 years of the immigration experience in America to redefine capitalism and corruption through the behemoth of the Lehman Brothers Corporation which came crashing down in 2008.

On Being David Copperfield

The very first gift I received at the age of five was David Copperfield by Charles Dickens. For years I lived in my head as David, going through his ordeals and struggles in 18th century Victorian England while persevering to come out on the other side.

On the Here and Now

Theatre has remained constant. Every other medium has been an add-on -- TV in the mid-90s, Hindi cinema in the late ‘90s, Bengali cinema from 2002, BBC Radio in early 2004, voicing (dubbing Hollywood films, giving voice to Captain America in the Marvel Universe) in 2010.

I tried producing digital films in the middle 2000s.

From 2014 onwards I returned to T.V. briefly around 2017 (15 episodes of anchoring and acting in Crime Patrol), taking up teaching again from 2016—in creative communication, art appreciation and the grammar of acting in different mediums.

There was a series of award-winning short films from 2021 onwards and now a mix of everything.

I’ve dubbed for the main character of Netflix’s Beast in Me, acted in the recently released Do Deewane Shaher Mein, two Bengali films circulating at different film festivals globally, two new web series releasing this year and a new play Zen Katha which is going around.

There’s no time to think anymore. Once upon a time direction was on my mind but the rigmarole of collecting funds and chasing stars, I can do without.

Gratifyingly, I have enough avenues to express myself.

Power And Responsibility, Leadership Under Lens, Influence Examined, Authority And Accountability, Public Figures In Focus, Power Structures, Who Holds Power, Decision Makers, Legacy And Impact,